


A Collection of Assembled Almosts

by gomushroom



Category: Arashi (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Community: ninoexchange, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-05
Updated: 2015-07-05
Packaged: 2018-10-12 02:51:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10480476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gomushroom/pseuds/gomushroom
Summary: Nino has so much of Aiba in his heart, therefore he dreams of distant places and lives on borrowed time.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written for 2015 ninoexchange.
> 
> Here's a fic of Nino/Aiba baked in a postmodern-lit pie with incongruous allusions to Cloud Atlas, Inception, Nazodi, and #Brooklyn99. Since I know that this might not be the usual stuff, I'm slapping some extra warning here and now for these chaotic non-linear AUs. This all started from _"No, wait--what's that? I didn't quite catch you."_ *facepalm* All in all, I'm really proud of this. I'd never thought I'd do nested stories at full blast for a fic exchange; it was a tough battle, lolll. Lastly, as always, many thanks to nino_mod for everything ♥!

**①**

“—what’s that? I didn’t quite catch you.”

“I said: I sincerely apologize for being late, Ninomiya-san.” Aiba repeats his apology and stands stiffly in front of Nino’s desk, brimming with energy, his eyes gleaming, and a little out of breath. “Total apology, here’s your favorite expensive coffee straight from the shop by the station, and everything in between. Now, could you please just tell me what I missed this morning?”

Nino merely raises his eyebrows a bit. He reaches for the tall plastic cup, slowly opens the lid. Steam rises up from the cup, and with it a delicious aroma, hitting his senses. Still, he doesn’t say anything. Aiba was inexcusably late, seventy-three minutes for god’s sake, missing the dispatch and now asking for forgiveness. Professionally, there’s no excuse, and there’s nothing he can give but some eye glare and a little amount of pity since Captain will have to put this on Aiba’s performance report or something. Personally, Nino is a sucker for free expensive coffee any time of the week and is enjoying this.

Aiba is now even more restless and, finally, looking Nino straight in the eye. “Just because I’m late doesn’t mean you get to deprive me of updates. We did catch a case, didn’t we? What was it?”

“This morning means two hours ago,” Nino begins, lowering his coffee cup. He shoves a thumb over in the direction of the large clock on the wall. “And, don’t you worry, the dynamic duo already secured and handled the scene an hour ago.”

“That one morning when a murder case hits and I was held up and monumentally late.” Aiba can only stare back at Nino in disbelief. A sigh and eye-roll later, Aiba drags a chair from the conference table to his own desk, finally settling in on the other side of their small office, and takes a seat. “And Captain is _definitely_ going to write me one by the end of today.”

Nino wants to say more, wants to say that it’s not officially murder but only what appeared to be a suspicious death, now that Aiba is sighing into his palm, closing his hands over his face, and leaning his body toward the desk. Nino wants to let him know that the Captain himself has been busy with an interview since early this morning, and hasn’t even noticed Aiba being late. Nino wants to pat those ruffles of soft hair, but he doesn’t.

“So, am I going to get on with paperwork,” Aiba finally says, hands curling and uncurling as he waits for his computer to boot, “or do you or dispatch have something for me this morning?”

Nino takes another sip. “Nothing on on-call at the moment. Just the usual quiet morning here.”

“Except for a murder case that is _definitely_ out of my reach.” Aiba takes in the information for a minute before shrugging his impatience off. He shifts his focus on the computer screen, mumbling, “Well then.”

As he lounges with the coffee—his morning reports are all done and sent—Nino takes his time to stealthy observe Aiba working at his desk. Aiba wants to be in the field, probably going through something else that is not paperwork and has to be done inside a cool, air-conditioned office. Still, Nino has always delayed his dispatch since that only causes Aiba to be roused too early in the morning, and out of the office during the day. He will gladly pass everything to Sho and/or Jun, much to their delight in catching a case and their protests against way too much work. Those two can handle whatever comes their way more than Aiba can anyway, and Nino can have Aiba’s company in the office with him all day. Professionally, it might not be the wisest thing to do, but Nino likes the fact that he’s not alone during the day in the office. Personally, Nino doesn’t mind abusing his dispatch power if that means he’ll have Aiba at the office with him.

The running thoughts stop immediately when he hears the door open and Captain enters with an impassive expression, clearly in quite a rush.

Aiba instantly quits his reading, slamming the folder back onto his table, and quickly stands at attention with a proper salute. “Captain.”

Nino slowly rises from his seat, also standing at attention, but doesn’t say anything.

“I’m only here to gather a file. Just continue whatever you’re doing.” Without acknowledging either Nino or Aiba, he goes straight to his desk, rummaging through one of his drawers before taking out a dark blue bound notebook.

“Is there something I can do to help, Captain?” Aiba asks.

“No, thank you, Aiba-chan,” Captain says. He finally stops a while to turn to Aiba, giving him a small smile. “This one is personal. I have it under control.”

Personal? Since when has Captain taken personal cases? Nino’s brain is fast enough to deduce that whatever it is, it’s important enough to grant Captain’s sole focus and office time. He doesn’t inquire further.

“Do we have anything else from dispatch?”

Nino shakes his head. “No, Sir. Just the one we caught this morning. Sakurai and Matsumoto are due to come back within the hour.”

“Good. I’ll be in Interview Room B. Let me know if there’s something that requires my attention. Other than that, you two, standard procedure.”

Both of them answer in unison. “Yes, Sir.”

They watch Ohno stride out of the room, leaving them both again alone in the room, before turning to share questioning looks with each other.

Aiba starts, “Do you know—“

“I don’t. We shouldn’t ask.”

“I know. But, don’t you think—?”

“I don’t think,” Nino says, shaking his head. “We really should not.”

Aiba is about to say more when they hear loud clatters from downstairs, before the shuffle and loud familiar chatter approach their office. Before long, Sho and Jun walk into the office, each hefting two large boxes, with broad smiles on their faces. Nino sighs in preparation, reaching for his now lukewarm coffee, and sits back in his chair.

Jun excitedly announces, “We’re back!”

“Welcome back,” Aiba answers, with a similar level of excitement. “How is it going?”

Sho already rushes to his own desk, dropping the boxes he’s carrying without care on top of his scattered files. “Where’s Captain?”

“He’s at Interview Room B. He asked to not be disturbed,” Aiba promptly answers as he moves closer to Jun’s desk.

Jun frowns at the answer. “Interview room? Interviewing who? Did you catch something else while we were gone?”

“Have no idea who. He’s being serious and rather secretive. Maybe some brass’ kid got held up for possession or petty theft,” Nino says as he finally finishes his coffee.

Sho turns to Nino with confusion clear on his face. It is very rare for Captain to handle cases these days, let alone an interview. “Really?”

“No, not really. I just made that up, but you’re welcome to go down and check,” Nino says. “In any case, apply standard procedure while he’s away. You know the drill.”

“Well, now that you mention it, some help would be nice,” Jun says. “You know, drone work. And we still need to get things to the lab to clarify some leads.”

Aiba asks in awe, “You have leads?”

“Aiba-chan, we true detectives always have leads,” Jun says with a hint of pride.

“Don’t let them fool you, Aiba-chan,” Nino says. “What they have is just some blood-stained stuff they need the lab to analyze.”

“Not at all. It’s cool stuff, actually.”

Aiba’s eyes widen. “Cool stuff?”

“Whatever.” Nino dismisses Jun with a wave of his hand. “Just do not ever bring bodily fluids in here.”

Sho turns to Nino and smiles crookedly. “Fortunately, we got something less gross this time.”

Nino doesn’t like the tone, not at all, but Aiba is definitely interested. “Can I help? I missed dispatch this morning and couldn’t join you at the scene.”

“You missed dispatch?” Jun eyebrows wing up. The _again_ addition goes unsaid but rings clearly between him and Sho, and Nino. “I am not going to comment on that. We will definitely take you up on your offer to help though.”

“Nino should supervise the tape check. He’s good at that kind of thing,” Sho says, taking over the conversation to lay out the instructions. He signals Jun to take out few plastic bags from the box. They contain a rusty looking pocket watch, a tubular key, and a broken metal doorbell. “Aiba-chan, it’d be helpful if you could get these bags to the lab immediately. I already called earlier. They’ve been informed and are waiting for these.”

Aiba is already putting on his coat and grabbing his bag from under the table. “Sure, no problem at all.”

They watch Aiba go out the door and then turn to look at each other: Sho to Nino with apparent interest in something unsaid earlier, Jun to Nino with a knowing smug, and Nino to both of them with a blank expression.

A full minute passes in silence before Sho begins. “What’s that I heard earlier? Aiba-chan missed dispatch? Again?”

With that, Jun has the opening he wants and pounces eagerly. “Still playing favorites, Ninomiya?”

“Shut up, Matsumoto,” Nino replies curtly.

“I for once don’t mind at all. We’re assigned to more cases, leading us to get all the glory and dump the paperwork on you guys.”

Nino says, “He’s still third grade. There’s no rush for him to work a scene solo.”

“He’s going to find out sooner or later. He’s a detective after all,” Sho adds. “And if we were lesser people, we would definitely tattle about your precious puppy love.”

“Speak for yourself, Sakurai,” Jun says. “I’m a lesser person. I am still considering the most impactful way to announce Nino’s undying crush to the world.”

Nino doesn’t even restrain himself from rolling his eyes. Jun has been making empty threats since he and Sho found out about Nino’s Instagram account dedicated to candid photos of Aiba in the office—it took everything he had to adamantly and calmly claim that it was his right and to point out that there was nothing wrong with liking a coworker, which sent Sho chuckling and Jun snorting rudely. At least teasing is all they do; there’s no desperate need to make a move, or to let Aiba know about his crush; it’s comfortable to keep things as they are, Nino believes.

“So, you said some tapes?” Nino says, bringing the conversation back on track.

“A week’s worth of them,” Sho says as he rummages through his box and produces a bag full of mini DV tapes.

Nino stares at the bag with disgust. “Why are people still using this shit these days?”

“At least you don’t have to deal with the requisition form for the player set. It’s the same as the one we have downstairs at reception.”

“Which shows how advanced and savvy the police force is. I cannot be more proud.”

“Have fun.” Sho grins wider. “And you’d better start now if you want to be out of here by the end of office hours.”

Nino eyes the tapes with apparent hatred and huffs. “Thanks a lot.”

“We should head back to the field for some follow-up,” Jun says, glancing at his watch. “Aiba-chan should be able to help you with these headaches once he gets back.”

Sho adds, “So you can, you know, review those tapes together, shoulder to shoulder.”

“And have OT together tonight,” Jun points out.

Sho continues, “And eat ramen together late at night.”

“And talk shop over cold beers, you know, like real cops instead of office drones. Together,” Jun finishes with a loud laugh.

Nino watches both of them with a weary look as Sho’s and Jun’s laughs escalate into hiccups. “Just because it worked with the two of you, doesn’t mean it’s a good way to do it.”

“What? We didn’t say—.” Sho blinks once, twice, and recovers first from the mirth. “Well, points for you.”

Jun is still laughing. “What points?”

“Some detective you are, Matsumoto,” Nino says. “So, are you done here?”

“Yeah. We should get going. Let’s go, Matsumoto.”

“But—“ Jun says in confusion. “We should?”

Sho rolls his eyes at him. “We should.”

Nino waves them goodbye as Sho drags Jun out the office. They will come back with even more teasing later, especially Jun, to make up for him being a slowpoke just now. Nino cannot do anything but stay ready with smooth deflections and pithy comebacks.

An hour later, he has two officers from downstairs haul the mini DV player set up to the office and arrange it on the conference table. He starts on the first batch of tapes, fast-forwarding through the whole sequence. His eyes hurt a little, but he can attest that nothing significant happened on the indoor tapes—a few people walked into the shop, rang up simple transactions, and left. He moves on to the second batch. These include footage from the entrance area, the dingy alley in front of the shop. He knows the basic layout of the crime scene now, so maybe he can fast-forward through the whole thing even faster.

He is in deep concentration on the images flashing at a high speed, when two guys—boys?—step into the frame from the left. He hits pause immediately and lets the image freeze on screen. Two boys, he concludes, both in dark parkas, faces completely covered with masks, head toward the shop’s entrance.

The first one, who leads the way, walks cautiously, fully alert. They are definitely up to no good, Nino notes while he checks the time code on the bottom right of the screen. The timing also fits with Sho’s early report. The second one follows the first in a much more enthusiastic way, almost prancing excitedly, with just a little hint of guilt, hunched posture, and hands inside his pockets.

When the first boy reaches the door of the shop, Nino hits rewind and goes through the footage from the moment they enter the frame again. There’s something familiar about that prance, something he knows he’s familiar with. There’s something, definitely something.

Nino hits rewind again, and again, and again. He doesn’t get any good angles for identification, but that prance, that way of walking.

When the realization hits, it hits him hard, straight in the gut, and he can only lean in closer to the screen and whisper, “Aiba-chan?”

 

**②**

“Ouch.”

Nino doesn’t stop his steps even when irritation spikes within him. This is a stealth operation, and it should remain so. He turns to find Aiba crouching and rubbing his left foot. “Will you stop bumping into random things and/or me? It’s time to get serious here.”

Aiba grins at the light scold.

Nino huffs before continuing to walk to the end of the alley. Somehow anxiety suddenly surges up within him, slamming him hard and inescapable. He stops abruptly causing Aiba to bump into his back again. He hisses as he crouches low. “I said, stop doing that.”

“Sorry.” Aiba hunkers down and settles in behind Nino, trying to take a peek from behind his shoulder. “What is it? What do you see?”

“Basically an empty alleyway. Just as expected, nothing much is happening at the moment.” Nino pauses for few seconds. “Maybe this is not such a good idea, Aiba-chan.”

“This was _your_ idea and now we’re going to go through with it as planned. You’ve perfected the plan for weeks.”

Will it be okay? Will they be okay this time? Nino then says with a sigh, “You’re right. I’m the one who dragged you into this mess and there’s no going back right now. We’re going in then. And, you really need to stop bumping into me. I don’t need you plastered to my back on our way to the shop.”

“Got it.”

“Put your mask on and let’s go.” Nino stands up and leads the way.

The alleyway feels eerily empty today. No one is actually around long enough to notice two young boys running suspiciously toward the pawnshop door. With the welcome doorbell still ringing above them, the shop door closes behind Aiba as Nino stands right in the middle of the entrance. Reflex has him backing up a step, bumping into Aiba right on the chest, and he can breathe again.

“Sorry,” Aiba murmurs.

Nino only nods in response. He’s the one who bumps into Aiba this time, but he lets the man apologize. Excitement and guilt rush through him, now that they’re here, now that they need to do what they’re planning to do.

The shop is the same as ever, as far as Nino remembers.

The long rows of shelves holding various dusty old items, some things that will never leave the shelves but still sit bravely on display for anyone visiting the premises. Vague memories of him with Aiba receiving their first candy from the previous owner float into his mind. Ms. Matsumoto is so much nicer than her grandson—the one who’s even more sloppy and now running the godforsaken business—and his being not nice enough, even evil, as Aiba has pointed out, is enough reason for them to perpetrate this act.

Nino has given this plan a lot of reasons, a lot of logical reasons: It’s not Ms. Matsumoto’s, per se, it’s her cheating and corrupt grandson’s. This is going to be easy, just a few ten-thousand bills and we’re out of there. They won’t make us out, just keep practicing your Kansai accent. No one won’t make us out. We’ll be fine, Aiba-chan. Don’t you trust me?

To which Aiba firmly nods and answer in full seriousness. “I trust you completely, Nino.”

The shop is the same as ever, but Nino can feel that something is amiss. The quietness after the doorbell is somehow numbing, and he stays close to Aiba while he strains his ears to pick up anything from behind the counter. “It’s too quiet in here,” he whispers to Aiba. “I have bad feelings about this all of a sudden.”

The doorbell suddenly rings, causing them to turn abruptly just to find that the door is still closed.

Nino frowns out of surprise and fear. “Why was it ringing by itself?”

“Backdraft? Or some wind?” Aiba turns back to Nino with a shrug to cover up his own surprise. “It is probably broken. This place has been here for ages, and it’s been the same doorbell the whole time.”

Nino doesn’t buy that explanation for a second, but he nods and turns back. They barely walk a few steps into the shop when the doorbell rings again.

“Shit. Shit. Shit.” Nino turns so fast that he once again bumps into Aiba. “Is this for real?”

Aiba turns to look at the bell above the door, looking less worried now that it’s the second occurrence. “I think it’s definitely backdraft. I felt a bit of a breeze just now.”

“I didn’t feel anything.” Nino swallows the curses that have been on the tip of his tongue behind his mask. Now that they’re a bit farther into the shop, the shelves encase them in a tight space, and he realizes that he’s very close to Aiba, huddled together in surprise and panic. “We should just head to the counter and get out of here as soon as possible. This is beginning to freak me out.”

Aiba nods, taking a step back, before waiting for Nino to lead the way.

They reach the back of the shop and the main counter in just a few steps. The doorbell rings again, but it merely causes them to jump a bit before sharing an eye-rolling glance. They take the last few steps to the counter and tiptoe their way to the cash register. Nino goes straight in to pull the handle, and there’s another ring of the doorbell, and he finds several bills inside.

“It’s not as much as I expected, but we’re okay with this.”

“Good,” Aiba answers absently, busy patting some keys that are lined up on the counter.

“Don’t touch those,” Nino says. “Don’t you know you’re going to leave prints?”

Aiba jerks his hand away, putting it in his parka pocket. “Sorry.”

Nino takes every yen from the counter, putting all the money in the small bag he prepared earlier and handing it to Aiba. “Here. You hold this.”

Aiba nods and takes a step back, bouncing against the high chair, and he accidentally swivels the chair around, with Ms. Matsumoto, her eyes closed, leaning unconsciously on the high chair.

“Why is she sleeping?” Aiba says in frightened whispers. “Didn’t she hear the doorbell?”

A shiver runs down Nino’s spine, and he’s about to say that she doesn’t look like she’s sleeping when a female voice startles them. “She looks dead to me.”

They freeze on the spot; Aiba lets out a small scream, while Nino finds purchase on Aiba’s left arm, clutching tightly. Both turn around at the same time and find a pair they don’t recognize staring curiously at them.

Aiba can only mutter: “What? How?”

The woman looks fixedly back at them, standing in a fancy silvery dress with layers of midnight black silk so soft it flows gracefully all the way down her legs. Intricate gold strips of lace adorn her shiny hair. Nino starts to recognize the soft lavender scent—instead of the shop’s trademark dankness—invading his senses. Standing behind her, a figure clad in a black tuxedo, a white bowtie with slick hair and a piercing gaze behind his glasses, is, well, if Nino needs to guess, like really, a butler.

The woman speaks again. “Are you looking for the pocket watch?”

It’s Aiba once again who’s able to find his voice. “The what?”

“The pocket watch,” she repeats. “You guys are here for that, right?”

Nino blinks several times to make sure this is all happening.

She turns to her—Nino is not entirely sure yet but probably—butler. “See, I can be right sometimes, Kageyama. They are speechless and completely cornered.”

The man she called Kageyama doesn’t say anything, only bowing in response.

“And you’d killed her so you could steal the watch, right?”

At the mention of the word kill, Aiba lets out another small scream, and it finally sinks into Nino’s brain that Ms. Matsumoto is dead and all this is surreally real.

“We didn’t kill anyone. We just got here. We haven’t even taken a watch.” Nino takes one step in front of Aiba. “And what were you both doing here? Who says it wasn’t _you_ who killed her so _you_ can steal the watch and frame us?”

“Points for you.” The man she called Kageyama steps forward so he and the woman both stand side by side. “He does have a fine point, M’lady.”

The woman stares confusedly at her butler. “What do you mean, he has a point?”

“We only witnessed them holding a few thousand yen and touching those keys,” Kageyama says, his eyes fixed on Nino instead of addressing the woman.

“We are not killers.”

The woman cuts through Aiba’s exclamation quickly, pointing at the quiet Ms. Matsumoto on the chair. “How do you explain ‘that’ then?”

“We didn’t... She wasn’t…. She was already like that when we got here.”

“When you got here and took money from the register.”

“When we got here and you got here too,” Nino argues, hands trembling as he tries to reach for Aiba’s behind his back.

“We got here after you got here.” Once again, the woman stares at Nino with a slight pout and accusing glance. “Kageyama, tell them that.”

“Again, I have to disagree, M’lady. Not that I undermine your deduction skills, but we didn’t witness any crime, except theft. A petty one at that.”

The woman turns to this Kageyama, whirling with her finger pointed at his chest, and Nino sees an opportunity.

“Go,” Nino leans back to Aiba and whispers. “Go through the back door. I’ve got this.”

“But—“

“Just make the transfer tonight and we’re clear. I can handle these two clowns.”

“You sure?” Aiba whispers, his eyes filled with worry. He runs his hands over Nino’s arm, his eyes staring fixedly at Nino.

“Positive. Go.”

Aiba takes a deep breath, before running his hand one last time over Nino’s arm, breaking eye contact, springing himself up, flying through the counter, and running to the back of the shop.

It’s the woman who notices first, but she can only shout. “Hey!”

“You got me,” Nino says. He steps forward to the front of the counter, blocking their way in case they want to pursue Aiba. “Let him go. You got me.”

“You are so under arrest,” she says. “I should take you back to the precinct and put you in custody.”

“You’re cops?” Nino flinches in disbelief. They do seem like a pair of bickering crime fighters, but they do not look like cops to him. “Fricking cops?”

“Here,” the woman says, producing a shining detective shield from her small fancy bag. “A fricking cop for you. And this guy here, he’s here as a ballast.”

The butler man bows again, with a smirk in his face, and they introduces themselves formally. “Allow me to escort this man here to the car, M’lady?”

It couldn’t get any weirder, Nino thinks, as he walks aside the woman and the butler to a mile-long limousine parked just right in front of the shabby shop. They arrive at a small precinct and Nino finds himself walking down an empty aisle toward a room with a mirror. The two of them leave him in the room, handcuffed to a chair, and with nothing to do.

In his mind, Nino imagines that Aiba has managed to get back to their house and make the wire transfer, and everything should be all right. All he has to do is face charges of petty theft, a small price to pay when it comes to Aiba’s safety.

A man in a crisp uniform comes back into the room, together with the woman, carrying two evidence bags, a bound notebook, and a recorder.

“Captain Ohno Satoshi and Detective Hosho Reiko performing an interview with one Ninomiya Kazunari, resident of Okayama-shi Higashi-ku, Meguro-chou—“

Nino blanches at the introduction. Shit, shit, shit.

“—in question as sole suspect of petty theft and the suspicious death of Ms. Matsumoto in the vicinity of _Kumochizu_ Pawnshop.” Captain Ohno flips open the dark blue bound notebook. “We have not only your files but also one for your dear friend, what do you call him again, Aiba-chan.”

“Hosho-kun had taken your wallet,” the Captain clarifies for the record, setting the first evidence bag in front of him and then the second, “and your phone right here as evidence.”

Nino’s hands are trembling, sweat running down his spine, and he can only stares motionlessly at sight of the Captain handling his phone without difficulty.

“We already have you cold for petty theft and the suspicious death of Ms. Matsumoto. So, what’s the passcode, Ninomiya?” the Captain asks quietly, with a clear air of authority and persistence.

Nino doesn’t say anything. At the thought that he could drag Aiba into the mess, Nino only clamps down harder. He makes himself swear to heaven and back that he will never snitch on Aiba, and if it is his word against Detective Hosho’s word, so be it. As far as he’s going to say, he was in this alone, and only he should bear the responsibility.

“Try 7-3-2-2.”

Captain Ohno turns to look toward the corner of the room. Detective Hosho is elbowing Kageyama, who’s holding a steaming teacup. Nino had forgotten that they were in the room observing. The Captain tries the combination and is denied access.

“Very clever of you to not use the Japanese keyboard.” Kageyama nods at him with a hint of approval. “Would you try 6-2-7-2-5-4, Captain?”

In the Captain hands, Nino’s phone beeps and blinks into the main menu, and everything falls apart at that moment. He is left with nothing but a painful whisper directed at Kageyama. “How?”

Kageyama sips his teacup, stares levelly at Nino, and answers in a quiet, serious tone. “Easy. Mine is 7-3-4-5-6.”

The Captain returns the phone to the evidence bag before he stands up from his chair. "We’re taking this phone as evidence since we’ve established that you had an accomplice and that this looks like a premeditated crime. I’ll have my detectives process this immediately. Hosho-kun, well done.”

“Thank you, Sir.”

“Ninomiya,” the Captain says. “You have the right to one phone call from our reception table. Would you like to have it now?"

Nino only nods weakly, defeated and outwitted. He’ll take anything to get out from this cold room, even if all he wants to do is break down and cry.

“Very well. Hosho-kun will escort you.”

After going through the same empty aisle she shows him a small glass booth by the receptionist with a green payphone in the middle of it. Nino reluctantly enters the booth, turning to see that she is watching his every move from the outside.

He’s going to say he’s fine. He’s going to say he’s going to be away for a while. He’s going to say he loves Aiba and please take good care of himself when Nino’s away. Here goes. He picks up the receiver and dials the number he knows by heart.

 

**③**

The buzzing that grates against his bedside table grows more and more insistent.

Nino grunts out of sleep, and only reflex has him reaching for the bedside table in an attempt to grab his phone, or perhaps throw it into the corner of the room, because he’s in a nice place right now, warm and held by a pair of arms that are already starting to tighten their hold.

“Don't.”

Nino considers that an automatic answer, ignoring the sleepy, hoarse voice in his ear, along with the wheezing soft breath that comes with it against his neck.

“Don’t pick it up.”

Nino tries to turn around to face the man beside him, to burrow deeper and forget his incessantly vibrating phone, but the hold around Nino’s waist only tightens. He presses himself back into the warmth instead and receives another wet kiss on the nape. “It might be important,” he protests weakly with a soft sigh.

“This is way more important.” And hands begin to roam across his stomach, caressing his skin and leaving trails of heat. Nino shudders as the hands reach his thigh and the body behind him presses even closer.

He basks in the attention, in the pleasant sensation, the soreness from the night before. His last coherent thought is that it is his day off, goddammit, so to hell with whoever’s calling—it’s going to be his office anyway; the annoying calls are always from work. Nothing could be more immediate than this.

Then, fingers flutter up his thighs, roam over his chest, and graze his sore nipples. Wet lips and sharp teeth settle over Nino’s shoulder, leaving small bites, one after another. He sighs before opening his eyes, eyelashes heavy, blearily turning his head around to seek more.

“You must be sore, but I want you again.”

Nino hums lazily and turns sideways for a proper kiss, his mouth eager and open, giving permission, expressing equal want. “Yes.”

Aiba presses him back further into the bed, curling his other hand against the side of Nino’s jaw and kissing him, exactly the way he’s wanted, deep and warm and generous, covering half of Nino’s body with his own warm body, side by side. Nino shifts his face, every part of his body awake by now, and arches up into the kiss, welcoming Aiba in, again and again. Finally, Aiba pulls away, stroking his hand along Nino’s jaw, letting his thumb press gently against his lips to stop the way Nino tries to follow him after the kiss.

“Masaki,” Nino mumbles breathlessly.

Aiba’s left hand roams again, making small circles over Nino’s lower stomach, while the right caresses Nino’s collarbones, massaging his upraised neck lightly, up and down. When a warm palm touches his half hard cock, Nino moans softly. Aiba folds him forward, bending Nino further so he can run his other hand over Nino’s ass cheeks and slide a finger into the cleft of Nino’s ass. Preparation is fast—they’d done this the night before—and Nino is sore and loose enough that he, and Aiba too, knows there’s not much more that needs to be done.

Just when Nino thinks Aiba is going to get on with it, Aiba’s hand hits the inside his thigh with a loud smack while he brushes his nipple with the other thumb and rolls it between his fingers.

Nino arches and gasps in pain when the hand running over his thigh brings with it familiar edges. He now shudders in anticipation, shifting one leg forward to give Aiba more room to play. There’s going to be more of this, he knows.

"Breathe through it," Aiba says. And then he delivers another smack on the other thigh and pinches his other nipple. It happens again and again for a while and in random intervals until Nino can feel Aiba everywhere: smacking his now-burning thigh, fondling his ass cheeks, brushing his sore nipples, pressing against the bottom of his throat, pinching his sides. Before long, Nino’s face starts to feel as hot as his everywhere, his hands clutching the sheets tightly for purchase.

Aiba starts pressing his fingers inside, rubbing confidently, sliding them inside him, coaxing, asking, and taking, and Nino feels the pressure increase, blunt fingers against his hole. He wants to arch back and to fold himself into a smaller ball at the same time, but Aiba’s solid frame binds him in the position, on his side, bent open for taking whatever he’s given.

The alternating between pinching and rubbing, between smacking and caressing that Aiba’s giving him, brings flares of dull pain all over his body back to the surface, sharpening his mind along with the lazy sweeps of pleasure. And all Nino can think of is that he needs more, and he needs more now.

Muffled against the bed, Nino finally pleads. “Masaki.”

Aiba’s pace doesn’t falter as he ignores the broken plea and continues his ministrations. He throws one leg over Nino’s hip for leverage while his hand works its way down to Nino’s cock and finally, oh finally, begins to stroke Nino’s erection. Only when Nino is reduced to nothing but panting breaths and soft moans does Aiba ease his cock into Nino with a lazy press, and he starts fucking Nino from behind.

Nino sinks deeper into the bed, asking for more, wanting it all and everything in between. Aiba’s thrusts are still lazy yet purposeful, but Nino dazedly knows it’s not going to last long. His crotch hits Nino’s burning ass with sharp slaps, and he moans with dark pleasure.

"Nino," Aiba whispers raggedly into his ear, his mouth continuously landing scraping teeth and wet kisses on Nino’s nape. Nino can't help to keep himself from letting out more broken noises, clutching the sheets even tighter. He pants, fighting to stay still and not push back against Aiba, taking more, and more, and more.

The tempo gradually changes, turning more and more desperate, and then Nino feels the shudder pass through Aiba’s body, his lips latched to his neck, his hips still moving, fucking into Nino’s willing body, chasing his own climax. Nino’s mind focuses on nothing but taking Aiba and floating inside fervent filthy dreams to let this last, let this burn, please, let this last.

The loose grip on his cock tightens, speeds up, stroking him hard to his own completion in an unbearable, cruel and perfect way. Aiba presses Nino down closer, thrusting faster and harder, and comes with a shudder and a curse. Nino follows, falling into blinding pleasure, clenches down around him, just the way Aiba likes it, and comes with a hoarse scream.

 

**④**

Why the fuck do people enjoy being difficult to each other, is the thought that floats Nino back into the room.

“Judging from the preliminary results generated, it is unreasonably early to make a proper prediction.”

This meeting has been an entirely unproductive agenda, of top management after top management fiercely trying to trump other top management. His gaze turns toward an empty chair across the large table while the umpteenth debate about their latest trial explodes spectacularly in the vast conference room.

“And since the department hasn't issued any official protocol, we’ve taken matters into our own hands and conducted the trial regardless.”

“Why on earth would you and your staff go ahead with the trial then? There are complications and implications; the company is at stake here. Imagine if there’s a leak from any department.”

Nino looks down at the idle phone in his lap. He has been expecting an email, a text message, or even a phone call since this meeting started. Nothing has come through—he should’ve had Sho call him under the pretense of an important emergency.

“The departments in charge shall take full responsibility for these blunders; it’s only professional and proper. Speaking of which, why didn’t we have the head of the development lab attend this important meeting?”

That’s his cue.

Nino coughs loudly to get the attention of the room before rising from his center chair. Discussion and arguments cease the moment everyone realizes that he has finally voiced something.

“It is clear to me that this joint meeting is a waste of my morning. I expect all of you to come up with solutions instead blaming each other like school kids.” Several people exchange glances down with mixture of guilt and impatience, but Nino continues, “You all fucked up this product development. You all fix it soon or _I_ will begin to blame departments and cut off paychecks for being incompetent. Matsumoto, I trust that you’ll have this mess under control by the end of the day.”

“Yes, Sir,” Matsumoto answers nervously.

Other than that the table is completely quiet except for a few audible clicks from department head assistants who are frantically making notes on their tablets. Nino meets the gaze of everyone in the room, searching for counterarguments, and he doesn’t find any.

“A full report from all departments should be on my desk by the end of the day. Is that understood?”

Murmurs of _Yes, Sir_ echo across the room. Nino nods his satisfaction and strides down to the exit. Sho is waiting by the door with a stack of files and a tablet in his hand.

“Nino-san,” he begins, “I didn’t want to disturb you earlier, but since you are leaving the meeting, I have for you several urgent messages from one Aiba Masaki-san. He said that you’d know the emergency. He asked you to contact him immediately.”

“Shift everything in my schedule to after lunch, will you? I have to go out for a while.”

“Yes, Sir. You will have a meeting with the head of the promotion department at 2 o’clock and tea time with one Hosho Reiko-san at 4 o’clock.”

“I’ll be back by then. Thanks, Sho-chan.” Nino sends a stiff smile at his assistant and then, leaving the conference room, goes through the exit door.

 

**Sent Message** 09:33 AM  
 _had some emergency? what happened? why  
cant i reach you back? aiba-chan?_

 

Nino walks through the door and sighs in appreciation. The heavy scent of coffee fills the space, instantly sharpening his mind. The smell of sweet chocolate sets his eyes on the freshly baked chocolate chip cookies an employee has just set up on display. The blast of cool air conditioning doesn’t quite mask the summer heat from outside, but he finds the comfort he was looking for.

The man behind the counter greets him with a polite beam. “What can I get you today, Sir?”

“The usual, please.”

The man nods on the order, proceeding to scribble on a tall glass, and punches at the register. The efficiency somehow makes Nino feel satisfied with his choice of place to spend his mornings at. He reaches for his wallet, pulls out a few 100 yen coins, and sets them next to the register.

“Will this be enough to add one of those chocolate cookies in?”

“Of course,” the man says, already putting the saucer for his drink on a small tray before going back to get a cookie.

As he waits, Nino looks at the ceiling, finding the same splatters of an irregular pattern at the corner of the room, a dull grey surface for the rest. This hasn’t changed in almost three weeks, and it’s beginning to bother him.

“Double espresso and a chocolate cookie.” The man comes back to the register with his order. He takes Nino’s money and puts several small coins back on the tray. “Is there anything else I can do for you, Sir?”

“Thanks,” Nino says, his hand reaching for the tray. “If you can also inform Ohno that I’m here for brunch, that’d be great.”

“Of course. I’ll let him know.”

Nino takes his tray to the far end of the side tables, his usual table. He settles himself in, slouching into the plush seat and beginning his late morning routine with his emails. Sho has efficiently sent him the morning reports, along with the salient news he needs to peruse in neat indices. Going through the highlights cursorily, Nino ticks off his morning work checklist one by one.

After he’s done with his tasks, he sets his work email inactive and switches to his personal. More checked and set aside, he manages to go through half of his Instagram notifications before stumbling over an email, marked with a green star.

 

**From:** Aiba Masaki   
**Subject:** Re: CD Project – Lost Documents  
 **Date:** June 17, 2019 0:00:56 PM GMT+09:00  
 **To:** Ninomiya Kazunari 

As per your instructions, I conducted a different set of tests last weekend.

You’ll find in the attachment my personal reports and notes. You were right. No one is above suspicion. There are obvious glitches that have been covered up. I have included a few other speculations on my documents. I trust you can fix this, Sir, or else.

-A

 

Nino is still frowning at his phone when Ohno slides into the chair in front of him, greeting Nino with a long hum.

Nino replies without looking up. “Good morning to you, too.”

Ohno doesn’t say anything else before settling in his seat with his stacks of documents, muttering to himself softly as he goes. He sets his papers in front of him: lists of ingredients, printouts of desserts and their scrawled recipes, and copies of his monthly tax report.

They share the table in silence. Ohno continues with his morning bookkeeping routine while Nino is busy forwarding emails and firing instructions to Sho. When Nino is composing the last of his emails in fast clicks and taps, Ohno looks up from his work. He turns to the cashier, catching his other employee’s attention, and signals her to bring a fresh cup of espresso for Nino.

Just when Nino finally sets his phone on the table, she comes carrying a steaming cup.

Nino meets Ohno’s gaze with a raised eyebrow. “I didn’t order this.”

“On the house,” Ohno quickly says, nodding his thanks to the employee. “Yours had gone cold an hour ago.”

Nino hums his thank you and takes the first sip. “Never a dull morning in the world of global corporations. How long have I been here anyway?”

Ohno shrugs. “I finished next week’s menu already.”

“That long, huh?” Nino sighs heavily and leans back against the chair to take a look at his surroundings.

“You seem to have a lot on your mind. More than usual,” Ohno says. He holds his pencil above his paper, glancing absently at it while making one small circle after another on the corner of his recipe.

Nino rests his head on the back of his chair, his eyes resting on the dull grey part of the ceiling. Wouldn’t it be nicer to have it full of colors? Or is dull grey the only option he has? Almost to himself, he speaks softly, “I lost something precious today.”

“Something?”

Nino rubs his palms across his face. Suddenly his bones feel exhausted, and all he wants is to take a short nap and wake up to find everything is the same as yesterday. “You’re right. Not something, but someone.”

“That sounds dire,” Ohno says quietly. He puts his pencil down now, focusing on Nino, but he doesn’t do anything else, simply waiting and being there.

“I guess it does.”

“Are you having lunch here?”

“No, I am just going to have more of this coffee, if it’s on the house.”

A hint of disapproval flashes on Ohno’s blank expression, but it goes away instantly. Nino could almost say he was imagining it. Ohno stares at him for another long second before saying, “You got it.”

 

**Sent Message** 03:51PM  
 _you are not resigning aren’t you?_

**Sent Message** 03:52PM  
 _dammit aiba-chan you are aren’t you?_

 

The night is warm and Nino has only to put on his light jacket. The night has been quiet, just like the other day and the other day. The night has also been unfriendly, just like the other day, the other end of the day, _and_ the other day. Nino wanders further, hands inside his jersey pockets, jiggling his two 100-yen coins lightly, as he joins the throng of people going through the south exits.

At the small station park, he sighs and sits tiredly. He stares in no particular direction, just absorbing the buzz of a late-night restaurant, the sight of more people coming out from the station, and the distant hum of the Tokyo night.

There’s a man, looking loose and drunk, who is having a difficult time focusing while descending the station exit stairs. A woman, appearing hurried and tired, goes down the stairs skipping steps, not wanting to waste time. A girl, still with her school uniform on, slowly descends the stairs, seemingly unwilling to go back home. A tall man, in a ruined sharp suit and a backpack over one weary shoulder, descends the stairs almost mechanically. One hand on the rail, he slowly threads himself down the steep stairs.

Nino watches as the tall man stops at the base of the stairs, looking lost. He looks around, zooms in on Nino's direction, and then walks toward his bench. Wordlessly he stops three steps away from Nino and heaves himself down on the other side of the bench. Nino says nothing and just sits there, trying to get back into staring in no particular direction.

The man sighs audibly and begins to open a brown donut box and take out some tissues. Nino is itching to glance aside but he resists.

"Do you want one?" Suddenly the man turns to Nino, offering the open box.

Pretending to be surprised will not actually work, Nino decides, so he turns toward the man, who smiles at him as the dim streetlight silhouettes his features, and he works up a light smile in return and accepts the offer. There’s half a dozen chocolate donuts, all the same kind, and Nino takes one. In silence, Nino puts his donut in his lap and politely takes small nibbles, one after another. The man sighs in satisfaction, leaning against the back of the bench, chewing a huge mouthful of his own.

A rowdy crowd comes out the restaurant, passing them merrily. At least others are having great night, Nino thinks. The man takes one last bite before throwing the box closed and balancing it on his lap. From the corner of his eyes, Nino sees the man pulls out a tarnished pocket watch, opens it and says, “Terrible night?”

Nino nods, but keeps on staring at nowhere in particular, without turning to the man.

“It’s okay. It is almost midnight.”

Were they the words that he wanted? Or was it just a random thought? Nino doesn’t want to make up his mind tonight, so he stands, nods at the man with a faint 'goodnight' that also sounds like a 'thank you', and walks away. The man can have the bench to himself now, and Nino can try to find peace elsewhere.

 

**Sent Message** 10:18 PM  
 _at least give me a call_

 

His eyes flash open. Lying down seemed like heaven an hour ago, but it doesn't actually feel good enough now that he shifts around under his light blanket. He's not going to get a good night’s sleep again tonight, Nino decides, tossing the blankets aside with a huff. He walks to the kitchen for a glass of water before going back to bed. He sits in the dark silence, hearing his own breathing, and the thought of Aiba floats back into his mind.

He returns to the center of his bed. Pulling his blanket over him, he curls up and forces himself to fall asleep.

Later, when Nino has already floated back asleep, his phone vibrates in his hold.

 

**Received Message** 11:59 PM  
 _you have failed. i wish i  
could forgive you but I can’t_

 

**⑤**

Sleepily, Nino pads quietly to the kitchen with the question of how many licks it would it take. How many exactly? Eyes half closed, he feels his way to the center of his life, the kitchen. As he approaches his corner, he sees empty beer cans lined up on top of the counter, neatly, from the look of it, and he quickly counts them from below. He shrugs upon seeing more than six of them, knowing that last night’s drunken revelry had been a true blast for Aiba.

Thank heavens Aiba doesn’t forget to replenish his bowl, Nino thinks. He tastes the water—expensive spring water is truly the best—and takes his time with it. Next is charging, which isn’t something he looks forward to, but it still needs to be done before noon. At least he’s refreshed and going to complete the morning routine without a glitch.

He moves back to his corner, next to his litter box, and settles in quietly. He lines up his side with the spark plug—the question of why they didn’t think of something a bit more graceful than this never fails to annoy him. Lying comfortably on his side, he feels the warm electrical current begin to swirl in his circuits.

He stretches his hind legs luxuriously, feels his head drooping, and closes his eyes.

 

He feels soft pats on his head and tickling fingers on his ears, and he hears Aiba speaking softly. “Aren’t you’re the cutest?”

Nino stretches and sees Aiba crouching on the floor and looming close above him. He meows sweetly and reaches out, scratching the back of Aiba’s hand.

“Ouch. That’s not nice.” The soothing pats continue, so Nino meows again, looking up with a grin on his face. Aiba is always easy in the morning. Perhaps he could make him serve another portion of breakfast. Nino’s starting to realize that he’s now rather hungry.

“Except it’s not morning anymore. It’s way past noon.”

Nino frowns at that. It was morning like 10 minutes ago, and now it’s already past lunchtime?

“We both slept in, it seems,” Aiba says. He stays crouched down a while, considering something, before he stands up and heads for the fridge. “And you’re right. It’s time for lunch. What do you fancy today, Nino?”

Nino meows, mostly at losing the touch and not in answer to the lunch question, before yawning widely.

 

“I’m having coffee.” Aiba turns to the dishwasher to find his favorite mug. “Do you want some tea?”

With his butt still stuck on the charger, Nino doesn’t answer. He pushes himself up to no avail, mumbling a litany of curses as he goes.

After a few minutes, Aiba turns at the sound and laughs. “Oh, you’re stuck again.”

If he could howl, he would, but Nino only meows and hopes that it sounds nice enough.

Aiba apparently doesn’t think so. “See? Now you need my help. And what did you do just now? Scratch rudely at your only savior.”

Nino stares petulantly at Aiba with a pout, and waits.

“Fine. I’ll get your key. Just stay put,” Aiba says.

I am not going anywhere, Nino wants to say, but he swallows the retort. After all, he needs Aiba to fix this stupid malfunction that keeps happening so often. What’s the point of independent domestic animals if they can’t even take care of their own charging?

Aiba comes with a tubular key and crouch down again to reach for the switch. A few clicks and turns later, Nino can feel the current stopping. Aiba nudges Nino’s butt up to help him back to his feet, and Nino meows his thank you hesitantly.

“There you go.”

 

Aiba turns with a glare on his face and a sizzling pan in his hand. “I’m holding a pan here.”

He simply scrunches his face mockingly, and continues to ribbon himself against Aiba’s legs. The scent of sizzling meat fills the kitchen and he’s hungry. Aiba needs to finish cooking right now and feed him, and he is going to help by standing around his legs to crowd the space.

“I’ll be serving burnt burger and you are going to cry.”

Nino chuckles but he stops moving around the legs as Aiba turns back to the stove to deal with the pan. It feels so good to be able to tease and get away with it. He tries to peek from below at what Aiba is doing on the stove, and why is it taking him so long, but his view of the stove is completely blocked by Aiba’s body. He then proceeds to sit on his butt in anticipation—there’s one thing that he can see and that is Aiba’s serious expression.

He circles Aiba’s legs again, this time with a demanding meow.

“Nino!”

When Aiba glances down at him, Nino turns his head coyly to wash himself. He’s probably going to get that burger burnt to coal, but it’s worth the fun.

 

“So then I didn’t say anything,” Aiba begins from a distant nearness, “because I don’t think they would want to hear anything from a lowly third grade.”

There’s a stripe of light dancing on the far wall and Nino only cares about that, only listening to Aiba with half an ear. Where did it come from? How come it can dance its way across the wall in bright daylight? Would it disappear if he stretches out and decides to chase it? It probably would, so he stays curled and alert.

“Since there were no further instructions, I did stay at the lab probably longer that I had to, just sitting there, checking notes,” Aiba continues. With cold noodles for lunch forgotten, he raises his legs to rest on the coffee table. “It seemed fun, even more than the office. Everyone mans his own cubicle and is busy with his own task.”

Aiba reaches for the remote, begins surfing through random channels, and gives Nino a sure long stroke on his back. “I don’t want to do anything today.”

You don’t have to. Nino rubs his right side against Aiba’s hip. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.

“At least you won’t have anything against doing nothing.”

The stripe of light dissipates into scattered dots along the far wall, and Nino stretches his paw lazily to draw a connection. The dots gradually grow fainter and soon, it turns to silence and stillness, just like that.

“—if it hurt to be excluded. I can always try harder, even being a slow learner.”

The end of the sentence startles Nino back into the living room and he lets out a sulky meow and nudges his cheek into the side of Aiba’s thigh. No you’re not. You’re doing just fine.

Aiba chuckles softly and then keeps his hand on Nino’s head, his thumb softly rubbing the soft ear. “Well, if you say so.”

 

As he curls in the lazy chair, Nino wonders if sunset truly is even more beautiful than sunrise. Yet it is the same revolving object that brings life every day, the same sun that is fiery and brilliantly bright.

“I’ve been told that you can’t have both,” Aiba says. “Either you get one or the other.”

Nino turns lazily to see Aiba is leaning at the balcony door, watching the same scenery. Too bad it’s already Sunday afternoon, and Aiba will have a full busy week ahead. Nino will not admit it in a million years, but these fleeting moments are the ones that he cherishes the most. He curls up on his side as he continues to watch Aiba, breathing deep and closing his eyes, soaking in the peace and quiet. Fully rested might not be the exact words Nino would use to describe Aiba right now, more like content and happy, and with that thought, he closes his eyes.

He feels Aiba stepping into his space, sitting down next to him on the chair and beginning to stroke lightly. He leans against the touch, folding himself into a satisfied curl and exhaling a long, content sigh.

“Thank you.”

Aiba’s voice is so soft, and Nino feels his chest circuits tighten with a sudden urge to cry with joy or silently weep with happiness. Words swim in his head, forming a love declaration of some sort, but in the end he can only manage a soft meow.

They keep their silence among them, as the afternoon turns into dusk. Gone is the intention of watching the sunset together, as Nino is happily closing his eyes, drowsily focusing solely on Aiba’s touch, cherishing the precious moment. Aiba starts humming a song, something familiar but he can’t—won’t need to—place. The world below them is slowly getting farther and farther away in his mind. In this time and space, with Aiba beside him, Nino finds peace and his anchor, holding onto something ephemeral and nonpareil.

He lets himself be taken over by slumber once again.

 

Aiba wakes him by running his fingers softly on Nino’s back. It feels so good, and warm. Nino shivers lightly as Aiba’s fingers rest on his nape, holding him down. The fingers now move around his neck, searching and prodding lightly. Aiba is getting really good with the basic layout because a few seconds later he finds the hidden mechanism without difficulty. He lets a bright ‘aha’ sound, finger pressing the small button, and Nino can only let out a soft mewl in protest.

“There, there.” Aiba pets him soothingly. “Let’s get you settled for the night.”

There’s part of Nino that wants to fall for those words, but there’s bigger part of him that has been trained to resist, to challenge, to question. Anxiety surges up within Nino, just like every time he realizes shutdown is commencing, slamming him hard and inescapable. Will it be okay? Will he be okay this time? He mewls again and manages to say, “No. Wait—“


End file.
